Nanny
by Natalie River
Summary: Dean stops to pick up an old woman against Sam's judgement and they soon realise she's no ordinary boiled sweet sharing, walking stick wielding, Grandma. She was Thor's Nanny, she's the Nanny of Heroes. The boys finally receive some kindness in return for theirs. Castiel's losing his mind and the boys need hope more than ever can Nanny prove it's never as bad as it seems?
1. Chapter 1

It was gone four in the morning when Dean spotted the elderly woman shuffling along the road. He'd caught himself glancing at the clock on the dashboard just moments after she entered his vision, wondering what on earth someone could be doing walking dangerously close to zooming cars and trucks at that hour on a day like that day.

Rain poured from the heavens and had done for hours.

The old woman was a grandmotherly figure, curly grey hair that had once been jet black cut short and sensible. Laugh lines covered her wrinkled withering skin and she used a walking stick for support. She could have been fat or slim but no one would be able to tell due to the several layers of clothing she wore including a coat and a raincoat as well as three pairs of socks.

A large backpack rested upon her shoulders. That was what really swung it for Dean, he couldn't see her face but he saw the stick and he saw the hobble and he saw the heavy looking rucksack.

Dean sighed. It was reckless and stupid to stop. Demons had nothing against using the bodies of children, why on earth would they _not _use a little old lady as a vessel?

Nudging his brother with an elbow he pointed at the figure and then gave a non committal shrug. "Do we give her a lift?"

He didn't bother asking the angel who had taken up residence on the backseat. If he had an opinion he'd give it, that is, if he could form one. Castiel was broken and he couldn't see the cracks let alone try to repair them. If Cas had something to say Dean was quite sure he'd say it.

It probably wouldn't be relevant and it probably wouldn't make sense but it didn't matter because a nonsense talking Cas was better than a completely silent Cas.

Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror, opening his mouth and promptly closing it again when the angel smiled toothily at him and he felt his eyes and nose burning, his throat closing up.

"Not a good idea Dean," Sam hissed as they neared the woman. "Demon, Leviathan, Angel, any sort of monster, human axe murderer-"

Dean laughed. "Rule out human axe murderer, come on, we can take an old woman," he glanced in the mirror. "Cas, she look like a bad guy to you?"

"Thor used to appear like an old woman to people," murmured the angel.

"Are you saying that's Thor?"

"No," snapped Castiel. "She will do you no harm."

Dean had slowed almost to a walking pace. "Come on Sammy, any supernatural creature would be a fool to out in weather like this. Besides, we can do a drip of holy water, and rock salt without looking like madmen. Come on-"

"Dean I don't think it's a good idea," warned Sam.

It was too late. Dean had already screeched to a halt. The woman didn't turn around; instead she continued to trudge on. Beeping the horn Dean leant out of his window as rain and wind howled into the Impala.

"Ma'am?" he called. "Ma'am, do you need a lift?"

She turned cupping a hand to her ear and began to cross over to his window; he gestured that she not walk into the road and forced Sam to roll his window down. Sam leant back away from the splatter of rain and uncorked a holy water bottle as inconspicuously as possible, flicking it at the woman's skin as she neared. Rock salt caused no reaction either but a little confused frown.

"What did you ask dearie?" she asked.

"Would you like a lift?" he raised his voice.

Picking up her trousers she opened the door and clambered in placing her backpack on the seat beside her. She swung her stick in then slammed the door.

The Impale tore away. Dean was about to ask where she was going when her face broke into a wide grin revealing all of her four teeth. "Why if it isn't Castiel," she cried taking down her hood to pat the angel on the shoulder. "You must be the Winchester brothers," she shook her head.

Sam tensed turning around in his seat to look at her, he noted how his brother's hands tightened on the steering wheel. _She knows who we are...not good...not good at all. _The weather outside was frightful but she wasn't in the slightest bit damp. It was as if the rain had simply moved around her, as if it didn't want to touch her.

"You were always such a good child, always trying to do the right thing, always wanting to play with the big boys," she sighed heavily and began to fumble with her backpack. "Oh Castiel I was sorry to hear about what happened. Always thought it'd be Michael who started it all off though, he was such a bossy child. But Lucifer...he always wanted to play with other people's toys."

Dean's eyes widened, he began to ask questions at the same time as Sam did, struggling to keep his eyes on the road ahead. "Who the hell are you?"

"She's the Nanny of Heroes Dean," whispered Castiel. A whimper formed in his throat.

She reached across patting him on the shoulder then drawing his head to her shoulder, running her hands through his hair. "Oh my darling let it out let it out. I know you're broken I know. Doubt you remember much of me anyway, not many do. Just the idea remains. It's better that way," she smiled reassuringly as she met Sam's eyes. "The journey should be fine, Apollo always did hold me high in his favour, though I must admit Thor was my first and favourite," she found what she was looking for in her bag. "Would anyone like a boiled sweet?"

~SPNSPNSPSNSPNSPN~

They'd left Nanny and Castiel in the motel room before they went to do some preliminary research. They had tried to persuade her to take a separate room but she'd convinced them it wasn't safe for a woman on her own, not knowing what strange men were out there, then she'd cackled madly and winked.

When they explained there was usually only two beds in a room she'd told them she was no maiden and didn't mind sharing wink wink nudge nudge. "_After all dears, you're honourable young men aren't you?"_

The journey had been smooth; the weather seemed to part to let them through. But the journey had been almost hellish at the same time. Nanny sang along to anything Dean put on and she seemed to know only the _rude _versions of songs. When Dean had enough and cut the music off she got Sam and Castiel to join in an impromptu sing song, which both finally gave in to after she asked nicely.

_"Mr. Grumpy has to concentrate on driving. Don't mind him boys, and a one two three four, if you're happy and you know it-"_

It had only got worse. After they'd finished the sing song and all had gone quiet for a few minutes there was a rustle and she had produced three packets of teddy bear potato chips and passed them around. Then she brought out several little pots of fruit, half a packet of ham, and two bottles of squash.

It was then that she began to tell stories. Dean regretted even mentioning the name Crowley when he thought she'd fallen asleep because she sat upright and sprouted a tale about what a dreadful demonic beast the man was.

_"Always was a naughty boy. It's down to potty training you know. Calling himself a Prince now is he?"_

Shuddering at the memory Dean glanced at his little brother. The bags under his eyes were rough and deep, he was starting to look gaunt. With a shake of his head he dismissed the previous day from his head. They'd driven for most of the day alternating between him and Sammy and by the time he'd crawled into bed he was exhausted.

Because neither of them was prepared to share a bed with the old woman and it felt cruel to do so anyway. Castiel seemed content to disappear for a while and that had still left them with two beds and three people. It had been inevitable.

Dean found sharing a bed with Sam quite pleasant really. It reminded him of times that had been better. Not good, never good. But better, when things were simple and the rules were straight._ Look out for Sammy. Salt and burn anything that gets in your way. _

Before angels and demons that were more than just evil, before Leviathan and Gods and Apocalypses.

When it had been two brothers and an absent father.

The woman had taken almost an hour to get ready for bed. She'd pottered around in a nightdress for a while, brought out teabags from somewhere in the rucksack and offered everyone a cuppa. Then she'd brushed her teeth and washed her face before tutting at the Scotch Dean was downing.

_"I know he drinks too much Sam," _she'd murmured quietly. "_I know it hurts you. If he carries on he'll be dead before any monster can kill him. And I wonder if he knows that and wants it that way." _

Sam didn't like the way she spoke, he didn't like her and he didn't trust her. She told dirty jokes and talked about Bobby like an old friend as if he was still alive and kicking. Said in a drinking contest she'd had him under the table. When she learnt that both he and Dean was esteemed bachelors due to the fact they'd lost so many people they both believed themselves to be beyond redemption she informed them she had many single granddaughters.

Unfortunately Dean didn't think he'd stand a chance with Young Artemis, no matter how nice a girl she was and no matter how much she liked to play with the hearts of broken men.

It worried Sam, her cheeriness, her mentality of trundle along and hope you get somewhere eventually.

They'd made up the need to do a little investigating on their own first. They could have given it a few hours; at least let the clock hit nine before heading out and disturbing people's days with questions about strange occurrences and deaths.

But the opportunity had arisen and they'd taken it, donning their suits and escaping while they still could.

_"Just make sure you're wearing vests," _she'd howled. "_The weather can change aweful quick. And clean underwear. You never know you might be hit by a car-"_

They'd waved goodbye and hurried away then. Dean had to confess to himself that it felt better leaving Cas with someone instead of alone. Alone Cas wasn't something he wanted.

"She could be useful," Sam admitted. "Remember what Cas said, Thor used to appear as an old woman, to test people. He rewarded people if they were good to him."

They already had burdens to bear. Dean was well aware of that. Hell _he_ already had burdens to bear. It wasn't often he admitted that. But _he _was the one left to deal with loopy angels and lost fathers, because losing Bobby was like losing Dad but worse and he hated himself for that. But Bobby had been more of a father to him than his Dad had and it felt so bad to even think it.

But it was _true._

He was the one who didn't go off to college; he was the one who was never enough, never Sam. He was the one who died because it was _always _Sam, his little brother was the chosen one, his little brother was the chosen one.

He was the one who broke in hell and he was the one who made all the mistakes and he was the one _no one _ was the one who had to deal with the loopy angel and the broken brother. He was the one...

_He was always the one who had to pick up the pieces. _

Because he'd already screwed up his promise, his one job, to protect Sammy, he'd screwed that up.

"Dean?"

They were nearing the first address they needed to visit. No police tape that was always a sign. Not always a good one. But definitely a tell.

Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Dean even shed a tear, part of him wanted the man to sob buckets then move on. But an angry single tear over burdens and the guilt he knew he couldn't ever know, in the middle of a street in broad daylight, was not good.

Especially when it came out of seemingly nowhere.

"Dean?"

The older brother's chin trembled. "We don't need another liability Sammy. We did our good deed, we gave her a lift, it's dangerous to keep her around. We'd be responsible for any harm she came to and I don't know if you've noticed but we carry pain and suffering around with us like it's carved into our bones!"

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dean-"

"I don't understand what she is or who," he snapped. "But what I do get is that she's got friends in high places. She looked after Thor when he was a toddler and is the only person I've ever heard refer to Achilles as a very naughty boy! We've got enough to deal with; we do not need more people pissed off at us."

Sam removed his hand quickly. "But there's more isn't there? Dean, what is it? She could be useful; she seems to be able to look after herself. If not just to babysit Cas."

"Damn it Sam she's an old lady. I like her," he swallowed. "You know I really do like her. I don't know why. But she's like the Grandmother we never had. You know? She's a nice old woman and I don't want to know that I got her killed."

"What if we don't get a say in the matter Dean?"

Dean turned on his brother pausing as the mailman had just finished his rounds scampered past them. Quite an early finish for a Saturday, but then it was a nice neighbourhood, probably paid to be efficient around there. He gave the two men a nod before scurrying to his van like a frightened squirrel.

"Do you think we need a Nanny Sam?" he shook his head in disbelief, squinting at the sunlight that reflected off Sam's hair and directly into his eyes. The man took too much care of his hair if it was _that _shiny. The world would have to be ending before Sam would put up with greasy hair, let alone split ends. Dean held back a chuckle, well aware that he was avoiding any uncomfortable thoughts, well aware that his brother's feminine side was a joke for another day.

_No wonder he didn't make a good student. Too fond of hygiene. _

Sam's voice faltered, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Mom, not here, not now. Dean met his gaze and both brothers knew what the other wasn't saying and what the other should be saying and neither said anything at all.

"Fine," Dean threw his hands in the air. "Let's get this over with first. Before we figure out what the hell to do next."

Sam sniggered as they walked towards the white washed walls of the perfectly normal house on a perfectly normal street, in a perfectly respectable area. It was some sort of irony, thought Dean, that it was in these types of places the unimaginable happened.

"What?" he demanded.

Sam shook his head wiping his brow. "Thor's Nanny's sitting in our motel room. She's got a backpack that has to be bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, her walking stick if you haven't noticed has a silver tip on the end and she's got enough food, rocksalt, herbs and various amulets in that bag that were gifts she could feed an army and hold off a demon attack for months. And she's a little old lady who wants to pair us off with goddesses, and asks if we're wearing vests!"

Dean laughed. "Goddesses tend to get vengeful. And Nanny gave me a little bar of chocolate this morning for being a good boy. She told me not to tell you."

Sam withdrew a hand from his pocket, holding up a candy wrapper gleefully. "I got one last night."

~SPNSPNSPSNSPNSPN~

Castiel sat on the bed with a book in his hands.

Nanny watched him, her knitting needles clicking to their own tune. She remembered when he'd been just a child, just a little bundle of energy and joy. Always trying so hard to do what was _right _and not what he was told to do. Always wanting to play with Michael and Lucifer and the older ones. Always wanting to learn.

"Sometimes it's easier to be completely cuckoo than to face all the feelings you should," she told him quietly. "You told that friend of yours, that he didn't think he deserved to be saved. You judged him for that. Tell me, did Dean deserve to be saved?"

Castiel's eyes snapped up. "It wasn't for me to decide. I should not have judged. I followed God's orders."

Nanny didn't look up from her knitting. She liked knitting. Made a teddy bear once. She thought Thor still had it. "It's hard for you lot, having a Father who doesn't know how to show his love and no Mother around. Same for the Winchesters don't you think? Once when you were sad I sat you on my knee and told you that as long as you told the truth your Father would not mind how you felt. Honesty's important. So tell me, do you think Dean deserved to be saved?"

"Yes."

She nodded. "Pass me the green ball of wool; I think it'll go with his eyes. Picked it up when I was in Wales, I'll always have a soft spot for the Welsh mountains. Tryfan and Dafydd and them lot," she glanced up. "I knew you'd do great things Castiel. One of my favourites you were, some of them, Achilles, Apollo, them lot, they get a bit pompous. Thor never was. You were always a good boy at heart. Always."

Castiel handed over the wool.

"You fought hard to save Dean Winchester, you know that, and your Father does love you. Even if he's gone AWOL and doesn't know how to show it," she set down her knitting needles. "That man loves you Cas dear. You're as much a brother to him as Sam darling is. You must trust him as he trusted you."

"I do not deserve to be saved Nanny. I deserve to be punished."

She nodded knowingly. "That's what they all say Dear. That's generally how I know it's not true. Now, tell me, what colour scarf do you think Sam might like?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Now just in case anyone reading hasn't quite got the hang of the whole fanfiction thing- Supernatural is not my creation. That means I don't own Sam or Castiel or the television show or the merchandise. I do however own Dean Winchester- well no actually I don't, just thought for a moment there I might manage to convince someone other than myself that I do. I do have a poster of Dean Winchester which hangs very neatly on a spare section of wall. **

**This is the first, hopefully not last, Supernatural fanfic I've tried, even though I'm probably considered a sort of vetran in the fanfiction world. I think Dean and Sam need a bit of mothering. This idea started when I was complaining about Mary Sues and asking my dear sister why Dean and Sam always find a teenage girl (little creepy seing as they're quite a bit older than this from Castiel onwards) and happen to fall madly in love with her immediately. Or they find they have a teenage sister, cousin, etc. I was thinking, hrm, yes, they don't get many women who aren't connected to them already on the show and they don't get many men who aren't either for that matter. **

**But then I thought, hrm, why don't they ever meet strange old women? **

**So here we go, Thor's Nanny will supply them with endless supplies of cubed fruit and little bottles of water, tales of her younger days to make even Dean blush, drinking games, amusing stories about Gods and temper tantrums and possibly the edge they've always needed. **

**Read and review please~**

**Natalie River**


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark.

It was _really _dark.

No moon hung in the sky like a giant shiny pebble, illuminating the streets of the city. Smog obliterated the stars and for once it was actually peaceful. The bars and clubs had long since shut early morning slowly becoming dawn with hardly any cars on the roads yet. Nothing was moving, no one was screaming, nothing was happening.

_Bliss. _

But far from there in an overgrown graveyard Dean and Sam Winchester were digging up a grave. After all, what else would they be digging up?

The night was deadly still apart from the occasional grunt as another shovel of dirt was hoisted into the air and shoved aside. Somewhere an owl hooted. Then there was a rustle and a crinkle and then...

_BANG._

Dean almost leapt into the air and Sam let out a yelp. They scrambled out of the grave, for six foot of dirt's a bitch to move weapons drawn scanning the darkness.

Nanny was leant against a box grave, a packet of now open trail mix in her hand. "Are you alright dears?"

Heart pounding madly in his chest Dean swore loudly.

Sam stared at her raising his arms as if asking the heavens for an answer. Of course it was nothing more than an ingrained habit. Heaven hadn't answered for a while now.

"Boys," Nanny shook her head. "That's a quarter for the swear jar both of you," she placed one hand on her hip. "I heard you use that God of Castiel's name in vain Samuel Winchester don't you deny it."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Swear jar? I thought you were waiting in the car. And where the hell's the angel?"

"Would you like some Sam?" she offered him the bag. "I know you like your healthy food. I'm trying to be healthy me. Oh I have wet wipes in my bag just hold on-"

Sam wiped a sweat stained brow with a grubby hand. "Where's Cas?"

"I thought you boys would want something to eat by the time you were finished, I sent him to look for something fried. You two _do _eat fries don't you?"

"We're in the middle of freaking nowhere," reminded Dean angrily shouldering his shovel.

Nanny nodded happily. "He looked sad. The walk will do him good. Nuts?" she raised her eyebrows suggestively as she offered him the packet.

The men resumed digging.

As they salted the bones a massive beast of a man appeared wrenching Dean backwards. Dropping his shot gun he struggled as the hands wrapped around his neck squeezing the life out of him.

Sam continued to pour gasoline into the grave desperately fumbling for the matchbox.

A salt bullet hit the spirit in the back. He faltered enough to drop the older brother hard to the ground. Sam knew he heard a pop over the roar of fury.

"Get your filthy hands of my boy!"

_BA-BOOM. _

The second shot and the drop of a match. Bursting into flames the ghost disappeared with a satisfying crackle.

Nanny span, shotgun still at the ready, held lose in one hand. Sam hit the floor.

Cautiously standing, wincing as he did, Dean approached one hand raised. "Right. Just...careful with that thing!"

She lowered it. "Oh this? Did I use it right?" the 'I'm just a little old lady' voice was back. She passed it to him. "Oh that shoulder looks dislocated. Want me to put it back?"

"How the hell did you get in here?" demanded Sam squinting at her. "We had to climb the gate!"

"Oh I just gave it a little push," she told them. "Well take off that t-shirt or do you want your brother to raise the dead?"

After stripping Sam of his thread bare shirt, commenting on his _excellent _muscle tone and forcing Dean to bite down on it (later Sam would ask why a belt wouldn't have sufficed) she proceeded to force the shoulder back into its socket and grinned as even Sam's eyes watered.

When Castiel returned to the Impala he found Nanny in good spirits. Of course she was always in good spirits.

Sam had expected greasy fries and tried to remember the last time he'd eaten something that was actually considered food. Endless strings of cardboard boxes and cheap drinks took their toll. The last time he actually ate a home cooked meal had to be-

"I found a place," said the angel.

Nanny nodded. "And where might this be?"

"Three miles from here, I walked."

"And now," she smiled encouragingly, "now you fetch them."

The angel was gone.

Dean stared at her. "You do realise that God's messengers are not delivery boys."

"Oh he's getting there," she sighed fondly.

"I can't believe-" Sam began.

Nanny folded her arms and raised her nose haughtily. "Well neither of you need to have any then do you?"

"Well-"

She shushed him with her pinky. "Nope. You two can just carry on with whatever else you were going to do tonight. Don't mind me and Castiel. We won't disturb you. I asked him to get you one of those burgers Dean dear, well four actually, once each. You do eat meat don't you Sam? Well me and him'll just have to eat them ourselves."

"I didn't say that!" objected Sam.

The angel returned.

Then promptly left again.

"Did you really need ketchup?" asked Sam. "Really?"

Nanny nodded happily chewing a fry. "Can't have fries without ketchup. Sacrilegious or something."

Neither brother could protest anymore, for the angel had returned. This time he had enough ketchup to stock a nation. Nanny pocketed the spare ones and passed a few sachets of salt to Dean.

"Never know when it might come in useful."

* * *

"Something was stolen from each victim?" asked Nanny nibbling an apple.

Dean glanced up from the paper cuttings. "Yeah."

Sam nodded. "Strange. But all of it screams vampire. Maybe they were trying to make it look like some sort of twisted murder and crime of opportunity."

Dean nodded swallowing. "Right. We'll take it. But you dare get me bitten to find the nest and the first throat I rip out will be yours."

"Boys," warned Nanny. "What did I say? If you can't say anything nice then," she paused until it became clear that neither was going to finish the sentence. "Then don't say anything at all."

"Two deaths so far," Sam swivelled the screen. "Drained with teeth marks. Three missing people. Some reporter noted that both victims, both female, were bitten in different places. One in the inner thigh one at the neck."

Dean frowned. "_Why?" _

"Efficiency dear," Nanny said. "Two best places to get a lot of blood quick."

Dean shuddered.

"It looks like a very small nest," Sam said turning the laptop back to himself. "In fact I'd say two or three. Which is why they're taking people. From what I gathered there have been no vamp kills here at all. So I'm thinking a few vamps coming here, trying to set up home. If we start out now we can get there by tomorrow morning. That gives us a whole day to find the nest."

"Should be an easy hunt," Dean smiled reassuringly.

"And your friend Cas will join us later will he?" from what _she _gathered he wasn't going to heaven but he wasn't there and neither brother volunteered anything as to his whearabouts. So as tactful as always she broached the subject as if she had no clue of all the tension that it caused. Nanny nodded as she stood. "This is nice; the two of you, finally acting like brothers again."

"We've always acted like brothers," snapped Sam. "Just because we want different things-"

"Too right," agreed Dean. "I mean, yeah, he's a bitch, but come on, he's my brother."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Fifty cents each," prompted Nanny fishing around for her swear jar.

Dean sighed. But emptying his pockets he surrendered his fifty cents, all the money he had on him. Watching Sam smirk he elbowed him hard in the ribs prompting that he do the same.

Dean was glad there was no one watching. Anyone who wasn't family wouldn't be welcome in the room. Heck he didn't even want Sammy in the room.

_Damn it, _he thought but didn't say. He didn't want to give her two quarters. He shouldn't feel he had to. It wasn't that he didn't want to. That was the problem. He _was not _a wild cat domesticated, which was exactly what he felt like.

Taking a swig of beer he swung his bag over his shoulders, flinched instinctively at the muscle memory of the dislocation taking hold. Then he held his hand out for Nanny's bag and made a face at Sam's retreating bag, the wimp not carrying anything but his own gear.

* * *

Dean separated from Sam in the first warehouse they'd decide to investigate as 'prime places for vampire cribs'. Despite what Sam said the cynical part of him had a lot of trouble trusting him where vampires were concerned.

It had become clear that Nanny was not going to stay in the motel. Especially after Dean had found her in the front seat of the Impala when they tried to sneak away. Sam had now officially been demoted to the backseat once again.

They reached a compromise. When Cas was back she could come with them. They dropped her off in the town before continuing on to more desolate places. Dean couldn't help but worry about letting the old woman loose.

Partially for her safety and partially for any civilians standing too near her.

Shaking all distraction from his head he continued his search of the second floor while Sam checked out the first. An hour and a half later they'd found no sign of vampires or anything supernatural unless you counted an abnormal amount of spider webs.

"Nanny'd say the place needed dusting," commented Sam.

Dean laughed. "Next one's literally two minutes from here."

With Sam studying a map of the city in his lap and Dean answering the phone will driving they almost passed the place. Dean's heart leapt to his throat. The phone had been strictly emergencies.

"You both like garlic don't you?"

Dean had to answer before hanging up. He just _had _to.

The building was gated. The two visible windows bricked up. Dean had a machete in his hand and a shotgun in the other before Sam had even clambered out of the car. Passing the machete to Sam they scaled the gate instead of bothering with the numerous locks.

The linger stench of decaying meat hung in the air near the boarded door.

"They don't usually put up a sign that says 'we're here' do they?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam nodded. Then took a step into the darkness.

Dean took one last breath of fresh air stepped inside and found stack upon stack of boxes. Sam was nowhere in sight.

"Damn," he breathed and stepped around one pile. He jogged along one row, peering up at the top of the stacks and resisted the urge to call out. He rounded one corner and heard a grunt then a crash.

Dean glanced up before the boxes caved in upon him and rushed forwards barely avoiding the cascade.

Sam cried out, his voice echoing through the warehouse.

Dean darted left then right, sending more boxes rolling. They were piled high to the roof and the effect was like dominoes.

Curling in on himself so that he wasn't crushed he hit the ground beneath their weight.

"Dean!"

Something sharp had cut his forehead, he'd hit the floor pretty hard. _Great, _thought Dean. _Demons, vampires, monsters, the King of Hell himself? No a bunch of cardboard boxes and wooden crates'll kill Dean Winchester. _

Dragging himself up onto his elbows he began to crawl.

"Dean!"

Swearing silently he forced himself onwards. Sammy was getting rusty. _You never call out your companion hunter's name. It gives _them_ ammo. _

But that didn't stop him. It spurred him onwards clutching the shot gun to his side.

He felt his phone vibrate against his leg. Probably Nanny. Gods he hoped she wouldn't take his not answering as a signal to get herself over there. He was glad he'd set it to vibrate.

_I'm sorry, _he apologised.

Reducing his wheeze to a mere whine he rolled his shoulders and rose from the boxes like a phoenix from ashes.

He was pretty sure one of the boxes with sharp edges, one of the wooden ones, had hit him on the head because it was spinning like a merry go round. But he was damned if a wooden crate was going to do him in.

If Dean Winchester died he'd die like he was born, screaming and bathed in blood.

Not while Sammy needed him.

* * *

**Author's note:** So what do you think? Bearing in mind that us mere mortals in the UK have only had three episodes of Season 8 yet what's it like? Disclaimer: I own a trench coat according to my mother that's not the same as owning Castiel. You get the drift.

Thanks for reading my humble readers~

Natalie River


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